For better or For Worse
by ms. nick jonas
Summary: Eleven year old Nathaniel Ryder has never had a home. Sure, he's had his share of foster parents. Unfortunately for him, they did not turn out very friendly. He has had a pretty rough life, ever since his parents and sister died on that cold, December night. Will Nathaniel's or Nate's life change when he literally stumbles into the lives of the Grey family?
1. Chapter 1

Hi there! My name's Nathaniel Ryder. You can call me Nate though, everybody else does. I just turned eleven about... four weeks ago? Yeah, that's right. I'm a normal kid... kinda. Actually, I'm far from normal.

You see, my parents and sister were killed when I was about seven. They had been caught in the crossfire of two different gangs, and well... you can imagine. Life has been pretty hectic for me since then. The man from child services, Mr. Goldberg, has been very nice to me. He found me a family that he described as: "The definition of perfection and love." I believed him.

Mr. Goldberg lied though. That foster family, the Stevens, were horrible, horrible people. My "mom,'' Rita Sketcher, despised me. She would spend hours pointing out my imperfections, making me feel utterly worthless. I knew for a fact that my "dad," Mr. Wilson, was her fourteenth husband. Talking about my dad...

Greg Wilson, is the definition of evil. He loves his good dose of Scotch Whisky every other hour, feeds of the money his son, David, earns, and does not like me. At all. Actually, to say that he doesn't like me is a gigantic understatement. Something in the house breaks, or stops working, my fault. Global warming, according to him, my fault. I know that's a little extreme, but hey, it hurts. The worst part of living with Mr. Wilson has to be when one of his friends comes over. I'll cover that later.

Now on to my, err, "brother." David, to my foster parents, is holy. His word is law. he gets what he wants, when he wants it. My parents know he makes steady money selling Heroin and Marijuana, and they don't care. They know he has a meth lab in the shed, which could blow at an any given time, but they don't care. He is the money earner. He makes the big bucks. He makes me do things a child should never, ever, do.

David, thankfully, is almost always out of the house. He's usually in Manhattan, or Hoboken, in a run-down warehouse, showing off his stores of illegal drugs. He beats me also, if I get a question wrong on his homework. That's right, HIS homework. Here I am, a lonely fifth grader, learning how to divide fractions, having to do an eighteen-year-old's Algebra 2 homework. I don't know how I do it, but I'm pretty sure my IQ is a lot higher than his.

Okay, I said I was going to talk about my "dad's" friends. Mr. Wilson, as I said, a heavy alcoholic, has a tightly knit circle of friends. Actually, not friends. More like, fellow alcoholics. Sometimes, like Super Bowl nights, they come over. If their team loses, I get hit. Baseball bats, spatulas, pots, cans, wet towels, hands, feet, head, anything they can use to cause me pain. Sometimes, they go further. Oh yes, they have violated me. Only once, but that's enough to haunt me, even in my sleep.

Speaking about beatings, today is the last game of the Pennant. Yankees versus Red Sox. Because we live in New York, we obviously are Yankee fans. Unfortunately for us, I mean, for ME, the Yankees were getting their ass whooped. Yes, I cuss. I'm sorry, but people around me say it so much, I can't help but repeat it. Oh well, back to the pennant.

"God damn it!" One of my Mr. Wilson's friends yelled. He was sporting his seventh can of Heineken, and was giving the television the finger. "Fucking left fielder can't catch to save his ass..." The others laughed, agreeing with him. I stood at the kitchen door, taking a break from cleaning, and glanced at the score.

I felt my heart drop, my stomach freeze. Bottom of the ninth inning, Red Sox up by four runs. Sure, the bases were loaded, but there were two outs. I grimaced, feeling myself become clammy. I knew the Yankees were going to lose, and therefore be eliminated from going to the World Series in San Diego. I knew that if they lost, I would sure as hell get it, from all the drunk men in the living room.

Slowly, slowly, I made my way up the stairs. Bad idea. The game ended before I could reach the top, and Wilson ran up behind me, pulling me down the stairs.

"Nice try you little bitch," he said, slurring his words. As soon as he pulled me into the living room, I felt the other men start to beat me. I could feel their bottles of alcohol as they slammed into my body, cutting me, breaking me. Pain, everywhere. I tried hard not to pass out, because I told myself tonight was the last night. The last night I'd put up with this, this...abuse.

Forty minutes later, they left. And I followed. Silently, whimpering, limping, and bleeding. Out the window, and into the cold. I walked for what felt like hours. I reached a large house in a place called Wyckoff, when I could walk no more. I fell into its green grass, and knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

I could feel the sun in my eyes as I slowly drifted back into consciousness.

"Wha-? I muttered, rubbing my eyes. I immediately regretted the action, wincing as the bruises in my wrists throbbed.

"Whoa buddy. Try not to move," said a voice. I jumped slightly as two warm hands pushed my wrist back down to my sides. Looking up, I saw that the voice belonged to a tall boy, or man. He was holding a damp washcloth to my forehead, which I now realized felt very good.

"Wh-Where am I?" I asked, sitting up slightly. The older boy chuckled, pushing me back down.

"You're on the sofa, in my house. Now, let me ask you a question." I braced myself. "How in the world did you get these bruises and cuts?" His eyes were fixed on mine, and I felt ashamed. Looking down, I told him.

"My parents..." I said, ignoring the unshed tears in my eyes. Eleven-year-olds don't cry. I wasn't about to at least.

"Your-Your parents?" He said to me, astonished. I nodded slightly. He cursed under his breath. "I'll be right back. Don't move." I nodded, my eyes closing.

"Shane! You in here?" Jason Gray called out. He opened the door to his room, smiling slightly when he saw his younger brother asleep on his bed. He walked over to him, and shook him slightly. "Shane! We have a problem." Shane Gray slowly woke up, hearing his brother's frantic voice.

"What's up Jase?" he asked groggy.

"Umm… we have a visitor; a little kid. I found him this morning when I went to get the newspaper. Shane, the poor guy's beaten up; so many bruises…" He finished, running a hand through his hair. Shane stood up straight, a puzzled look on his face.

"Is he downstairs?" Jason nodded, and led Shane out of the room.

A gentle tap on my shoulder woke me up from my slumber. Squinting against the brightness of the room, I made out two shapes just on top of me.

"Hey bud," one of them said. "I'm Shane. Can you tell me your name?"

"N-Nathaniel Ryder," I said shakily. He smiled at me and patted my shoulder.

"Do you think you can walk right now?" That was voice I knew to be the older boy who had woken me up first. "Oh, I'm sorry. My name's Jason! So rude of me…" Shane chuckled, and I smiled slightly. Even that hurt…

"N-no," I said. Curse my stuttering. "I really d-don't think I can walk right now. Sorry," I looked down at the floor.

"Don't worry about it! Here –" Said Jason. He placed one arm under my legs and the other right under my shoulders, and then lifted me up. He carried me over to the kitchen, where he gently placed me on a chair. Shane sat down on my other side, holding a cup of water to my lips. I drank, sighing in the relief of the cold liquid. As I downed the cup, Jason cleared his throat.

"Okay Nathaniel…" he began, looking serious. "We kind of need to take you back to your parents' house. They're probably worried." I shook my head hard and fast, spilling the water that had been in my mouth.

"N-no! Please! Don't take me back there! I'll do anything!" I begged. Jason and Shane stole a glance at each other, thinking the same thing.

_Houston, we have a problem._


	3. Chapter 3

Paul Jason Gray, or just Paul, or just Mr. Gray, was sitting in his office at St. Raphael's Church. He was pondering the words of a guest speaker who had participated in the last Sermon, when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He grimaced; cell phones shouldn't ring in Church…

Sighing, he answered. "Hello?"

"Dad? Hey, it's Jason," said the voice on the other side.

"Jason, how many times have I told you not to ca-"He was interrupted before he could continue his monologue.

"I know dad, but we kind of have a situation here…" Mr. Gray's ears perked up, and his eyes furrowed.

"What is it Jase, what's wrong?" Jason chuckled, immediately calming his father. He continued to recount the events of the night and morning, with very specific details. About four minutes later, he was finished. Mr. Gray hung up, and completely forgetting he was at Church, grunted: "Oh shit…"

Back at the house, Jason and Shane where sitting with Nate in the living room, sipping cups of hot chocolate. Nate was seated in an old armchair, his eyes dipping closed every once in a while. Shane was sitting with Jason in a sofa, as they watched the latest episode of Law and Order.

"Oh, go! Run! Shoot! Duck!" Shane yelled at the escaping cop in the show. Nate's eyes burst open, his breathing heavy. Shane didn't notice, and he continued yelling. Nate shut his eyes frantically, hiding his face at the yelling He was having flashbacks.

_He was five; he broke his dad's pen. Yelling, screaming, lashings._

_He seven, and had just gotten back from school. He hadn't quite made it to the bathroom in time, and was being hit on the back of the head by his dad._

"_Stupid little fuck!" He didn't know what that word meant, but he knew it was bad. "You can't even keep your pants dry!"_

Jason noticed the younger boy cowering in his seat, and shouted angrily; "Shut up Shane!" Shane glanced at him, then at Nate, and his eyes widened. Nate was shaking, his head in his hands.

Jason rushed to his side, patting him lightly on the shoulder. Shane joined in, apologizing profusely. Jason waved the apology away, then picked the young boy up, and took him to the sofa. He sat down with him in his lap, as the newly-turned eleven-year-old cried into his shoulder, eventually falling asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Nate had been asleep for about ten minutes now, as Jason gently placed him in his own bed. He didn't bother to cover him up, for it was pretty warm inside the house. He did take care though to place a towel under the boy, for he realized that young bladders can't normally hold three and a half cups of hot chocolate for too long.

The elven-year-old still had tear tracks running all the way through his face, which had dirt and infected-looking gashes. Sighing, Jason flipped off the light switch, and exited the room. He made his way downstairs, making sure to make little noise, so as not to wake him up. Once in the den, he found Shane sitting on the couch, flipping through channels. Before Jason could even sit down, the front door opened.

Jason Senior walked in, with an expression of confusion and determination. He motioned to Jason, then Shane, and then to the kitchen. They obeyed, sitting down at the table.

"Alright boys, where is he?" he asked gently.

"He's asleep in my room," said Jason quickly. "He's pretty beat up dad...I haven't gotten a chance to clean his cuts, but those things are ugly sir." Kevin finished, looking over at Joe.

"He's also rather jumpy. We started watching this movie and-"

"HELP ME!" A loud yell from upstairs got the attention of the family. All three stood up as one, and rushed over to Jason's room. Expecting to find a child screaming about a nightmare, Jason Senior opened the door to a nightmare.

Turns out. Greg Wilson had seen small footprints from his house that lead to this house. It also turns out that he has the ability to climb up a brick wall. And now, he was sitting on the bed, a knife in one hand, his other hand wrapped around Nick's head.

The Gray family stood stock-still, as if someone had frozen time.

"Good, good. Now stay frozen, or he dies."

Greg Wilson had managed to paralyze the four older Gray men, as he held the young Nate Ryder with a large knife on his neck. Nobody was moving. No words were passed. No one took a breath. Then suddenly, Wilson relaxed.

"I am not going to kill him," he said, and Jason Senior's face relaxed. "Yet." He sat down on the bed, then stood up quickly, as if burned. "You see! What did I say? This good for nothing ass hole can't even keep the bed dry!" He smacked Nate with the handle of the knife. Nate whimpered in fear and shame, as the Gray men looked on. Minutes passed, when Greg ordered Shane to get him a beer.

"Fine. I'll be right back," said Shane, exiting out of the room.

"And don't you try to call the cops! I disconnected the line!" Shane cursed under his breath, resorting to his last option. As he walked down the stairs, he pulled out his Iphone, which had 10% of battery left. Inwardly thanking God for sending him this as a Christmas gift, he opened it up to the text menu. Quickly calling up his mother, he wrote:

Need help. Call police. Don't ask.

The message was sent, and he prayed that his mother would get it, and arrive in time. He rushed down the last flight of stairs to the kitchen, and grabbed a cold Heineken, then rushed back up the stairs.

The tense feeling in Jason's bedroom seemed to have escalated, as Shane entered.

"Boy, give me your phone." Wilson said directly to Shane. He swallowed, and denied having one. "Don't give me that shit boy! Your father and brother had one, why not you?" His head hung low, Shane passed over his phone.

Nate was going to die, Greg was going to see his last sent message. The man flipped open the phone, and clicked a few buttons. Holding his breath, Shane waited for the whip to fall. Before Greg could press 'Enter,' the tone could be heard, decreasing in volume. The cell phone had run completely out of battery. Wilson cursed, and threw the phone against the wall, just as the room exploded.

"NYPD! Get down, hands where we can see them!" Greg acted on impulse, and lunged the knife into Nate's back. The boy yelled, as a white light filled the room. It appears the SWAT team had been called in, for a flash grenade had been tossed into the room, which was now being stormed by heavily armed men, and a fierce looking German Sheppard.

Just as Greg raised the knife to strike again, Jason Senior managed to grab Nate, and cover his eyes, just as five simultaneous shots rang out. With deadly aim, one officer had shot Greg's hand that was holding the knife, tearing it to shreds. At the same time, a bullet had crept into Wilson's neck, instantly destroying his nervous system. The last three bullets landed in different crevices in his face. One in each eye, and one through the left ear.

Ten milliseconds later, it was over. An ominous quiet rang through the room, as the team checked for wounds. One by one, the Gray men got up, just as Sandy Gray walked into the room, rushing over to Paul (Jason Senior).

"Oh my God, Paul! Are you alright?" She asked, looking him over.

"Yeah, I'm fine, but he's not," he motioned to Nate. Shane lost his lunch when he saw the damage. Blood from the wound had mixed with the urine, and a segment of the bone was visible. He was turning white, as his blood continued to flow."FUCK! WE NEED HELP HERE!"

Immediately, two paramedics rushed over to the unconscious boy, and tried to stop the bleeding.

"He's lost too much blood! He's going to need a transfusion! Phone the hospital, get one ready!" One paramedic, now pressing down on the wound with bloody hand yelled.

"Heart rate dropping! He's not breathing! We need to intubate!" Two other paramedics rushed over, and stuck a large tube down Nate's throat, helping to pump air into his lungs.

"Dammit! Heart rate zero! He's going to flat line! Where's the defibrillator?" One of the paramedics yelled. The other one handed it two him. The paramedic grabbed the handles, shook them together to warm them up, and shouted:

"CLEAR!" .

"CLEAR!" SHOCK, nothing.

"We're gonna lose him!" One of them yelled.

"No! CLEAR!" The world slowed down, as if in slow motion.

SHOCK.

Nobody breathed. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved.


	5. Chapter 5

"Doctor? Is he going to be okay?" asked Jason to the sweaty Doctor, as they approached Nate's current accommodations.

"Yes. As of about ten minutes ago, we got his heart rate stabilized, his oxygen on par, and his bullet wounds cleaned up and sown. So, if you could step through-" He held the door open for Jason and Shane.

Nate lay on a large, white bed, with surprisingly, only an IV stuck on his arm. The doctor had left, but reappeared back in the room.

"Oh, you might want to know this. He is going to make it, but he's still recovering. One of the bullets did manage to sever a nerve, which causes him to have no control whatsoever over his bodily functions. So...yeah. You can guess."

They both nodded. "So, what did you do about it?"

"Well, we could have attached an, 'external bladder,' but that would have required more surgical procedures. Because he was so unstable, we have him hooked up to the newest technology possible." He grinned at his own joke. "A size 6 diaper."

Silence followed. "Oh...okay. Do we-er-have to do anything about it?" Asked Shane. The doctor laughed and shook his head.

"No, the nurses will take care of that. Believe me, they're very good at it. If the smell gets to intense, press the 'Call' button, and leave the room for a bit. Okay?" They nodded. The doctor left, leaving Shane and Jason alone in Nate's room.

Jason went to sit down next to Nate, being gentle enough so as to not wake him. In his deep voice, he started singing softly:

Down on my knees again tonight,

Hoping this prayer will turn out right.

See there is a boy that needs your help,

I've done all that I can do myself.

His mother is tired,

I'm sure You can understand.

Each night as he sleeps,

She goes in to hold his hand.

And she tries not to cry,

As the tears fill her eyes.

(Shane joined in, in almost perfect harmony)

Can you hear me?

Am I getting through tonight?

Can You see him?

Can You make him feel all right?

If You can hear me

Let me take his place somehow

See, he's not just anyone

He's my son...

"Well, adoptive brother actually." The voice made the song come to an abrupt end. Nate was awake. He had tears in his eyes, his dimples pronounced as his smile grew.

"Hey sport! How do you feel?" asked Shane, trying to grab a hold of his shock, and bottle it into a small bottle. Nate shrugged.

"I guess for someone who got shot, I feel pretty good. But, it does smell weird in here..." Jason and Shane looked at each other. "Shane! You farted? Ewww!"Nate chimed in a sing-song, high-pitched voice. Again, the two 'real' brothers exchanged looks.

"Jase, um...why don't you explain?" Shane suggested taking a seat on the other side of the room. Jason glared at him, and gently brought him up to speed. Nate was flabbergasted, to say the least.

"Diapers? What-what-you're not serious?" Jason nodded sadly, patting Nate's shoulder. The kid looked like he was about to cry.

"Calm down buddy. Nothing is going to happen, okay? Nobody is going to make fun of you." Jason chided, hugging Nick awkwardly in a side-ways hug.

Nate managed to get a hold of himself, but Jason could tell that he would not remain composed for too much longer. Jason glanced over at Shane, who had fallen asleep in the chair.

Nate remained in Jason's arms, eventually also falling into the gates of sleep. Jason smiled, and ran a hand through his hair. He felt it tangled, and dirty. He could tell it needed a wash. Slowly, he got up off the bed. Nate didn't even flinch, but an odd hissing noise did resonate.

Realizing what it was, Jason hurriedly went to Shane, lifted him up in a fireman's carry, and left the room. He paused for a second to call the nurse.

He left the room with Shane in his arms, and reached the waiting area.

"How is he?" Asked his mother with a worried face.

"He's gonna be fine," Jason said, placing Shane in one of the armchairs. Sandy Gray smiled, patting Jason on the shoulder.

Then, his dad appeared. He had a very, very large smile on his face.

"I have good news. Nate is now the newest, youngest, Gray brother." Things were looking up.


	6. Chapter 6

The news that the Gray dad had adopted Nathaniel Ryder could not have caused a bigger uproar. Jason Junior had Shane in his arms, laughing and jumping in a juvenile fashion. Jason Senior and Sandy were as happy, but they were more graceful about it. Jason heard something along the lines of:

"At least I didn't have to get death threats from you this time, dear," had said Jason Gray Senior. Sandy stuck his tongue out at him, flicking his stubble with her fingers.

"Well, dear, next time, why don't you go ahead and deliver the baby? We'll see how you'll feel about that!" Jason's father grimaced, and decided to end it now. He grabbed Sandy along the waist, twirled her, and planted a deep, loud SMOOCH! on her lips.

Jason and Shane were through with their nonsense, and realized a key fact that had not yet been mentioned.

"Um mm...does Nate know?" Joe asked tentatively. Both parents froze, their faces falling.

"Not yet. But, let's go tell him." And so they did.

Nate did not take the news lightly. He agreed, of course, but it took a while. He was very appreciative, of course, and emotional. However, it could have been worse, but it wasn't. Two hours later found the Gray brothers sitting in the waiting room, all of them, waiting to be allowed to leave.

(Nate's POV)

I couldn't believe what they told me. I was part of a family now. A REAL family. Wow...no more beer, drugs, belts, or bruises. Christmas presents, birthday presents, help with school, a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear...it was all mine now. Even the thought of it made my head spin.

I couldn't wait to be home, my new home. Right now, I was sitting in my new mom's lap, feeling strangely comfortable. SLowly, slowly, my eyes closed. Hours later, I would wake up in my own bed. At least that's what I thought.

(General POV)

So the Grays had finally left the hospital, and were driving down a dark road when their windshield broke.

"What the-" Jason Senior's exclamation was interrupted by the rattling of gunfire, aimed at the car's wheels. The air was permeated by yells and exhaust, as a lone figure came into view.

"Why hello everyone!" He said with evil contempt in his voice. "I'm afraid we haven't met. But, as they say, names are for friends. So I don't have one."

"Ah! If it isn't little Nate! What a pleasure! Unfortunately, you caused my family-" Nate coughed man ignored him. "-Great pain. You killed my father, little brother. Now I. Get. To. Kill. You!" He pulled out a long pistol. A silenced P99. Nobody would hear a thing. Their bodies would never be found. Crap.

(Paul's POV)

Ah shit. That's all I could say. Why us, I wondered. Right after we adopt a child after he is almost killed, I have to face a murderous junkie? Oh well... I bet nobody knows that I'm a graduated third degree black belt. Tae Kwon Do lessons, thank you very much.

"May I help you?" I ask coldly, shielding my family. Sandy stands behind me, Kevin beside me. Shane is in front of Nate, who is scared out of his mind.

"Oh, nah. I'll just take my brother and be going," said David. I sighed. Here we go!

"Well, I see a problem with that," I said. His eyebrows raised. "You see, Nathaniel is my SON. So, go away." I finished that rather meekly, slowly inching my way to my cell phone. I turned the BlackBerry on, and pressed the number one.

Damn, was it lucky I have 911 on speed-dial. To make sure they know what;s happening, I switch it to speaker, my hand fumbling with the volume knob. David had his undivided attention on Nate, a fact of which we were grateful. Let the game begin.

"Fine, you can take Nate," I said in defeat. Jason gasped, and Shane started to speak. I cut him off:" But first, I need to know that you're sober."

"Psshhh...easy. Try me." David finished gloating, so I did.

"Where are we?" I asked, making sure the 911 responder could hear.

"Are you serious? Okay: we are in intersection between Chestnut Lane and Wyckof boulevard. Can I take him now?"he asks again. I sigh, and ask him one more thing.

"But please, can you put your pistol down? He's really too young to see this," I said. He looked at me like I was crazy, but shrugged. He took the magazine out of the pistol, and tossed it at me. I held the pistol delicately, with no part of my skin touching it.

"Come on little brother," said David. Nate stepped forward, looking at me with unbelieving, hurt eyes. I bit my lip, but the charade had to go on. But, it would seem, not for long. Just as Nate left my side, the police arrived.

David stared at me flabbergasted, and Nate turned around. His face alight with pleasure.

"Paul?" Sandy asked me in wonder. I smile at her and tell her I'll explain later. David was astonished, his mouth hung open in the police cruiser. The police helped me repair the tires, and put some clear tape on the windshield, then they left us.

I turned to see eight pairs of eyes staring at me, and shrugged. "Let's go home," and so we did.I walked up our driveway with Sandy, arm in arm. Jason was carrying Nate, who was fast asleep. Shane tagged not far behind, as we entered our peaceful house.

(Nate's POV)

I felt comfy and safe. Odd, I thought. Then the events of the night came flooding back to me. Scared, I bolted up. I was on the couch, and I had my head in someone's lap. As I let my eyes re-focus, I recognized the person to be my new mother, Sandy.

"Mommy?" I gasped, rigid from fear. It was too blurry for me to tell where we were.

"Shh," she said, massaging my scalp. "We're safe baby, you don't have to be afraid." But I was. I couldn't help it, I started crying. Not loud crying, but whispers. Soft, pathetic crying.

Sandy wrapped her arms around me, pulling me cliché. I rested my face on her shoulder as she held me, my tears engulfing my being. I soon felt another pair of arms, stronger, more calloused, rubbing my back. It was my dad. My hero.

"Dad-I- thanks," was all I could say. He also hugged me, whispering soothing, nonsense words into my ear. I felt my brothers take a seat next to me, and they did something I didn't expect. They tickled me.

I was laughing and crying at the same time. Gradually, only laughing. My parents smiled at Shane and Jason, as we adjusted ourselves to fit on the sofa. I sat between my new parents, Jason and Shane sat on the ground, in front of us. Nobody moved, nobody spoke. It was the type of quiet that made you feel contempt, secure. That is, until it's broken.

Shane farted.


	7. Chapter 7

It had been a year since my life changed. One whole year, since I have been a Gray brother. Now, it's my birthday. I don't know if my brothers know, but I know my parents do.

It's seven in the morning when I wake up, on a Saturday. Call me a geek if you must, but I was a bit excited. I mean, you don't turn twelve every day right?

I was kind of disappointed when I found that there was nobody downstairs, in the basement, or upstairs. I was alone. On my birthday.

Sighing, I sat down on the couch. Then the song hit me, and I started to sing.

"I'm all alone, there's no one here beside me...My problems have all gone, there's no one here to reside me. But you gotta have friends..." I chuckled, remembering the song from an old Disney movie, Shrek.

Still, the loneliness had set in. I started having flashbacks, very vivid ones too.

-I was being beaten-

-David had me taped to a chair, and was filling a syringe. He came closer, when I felt the needle go in-

-At the hospital, from an accidental overdose-

I couldn't see properly, my eyes clouded with memories. I felt my feet moving. I was at the window now.

-Again, a beating. This time, with a water bottle filled with dried cement-

-David, again. Had me taped to a chair, with another syringe. This one filled with green liquid-

-Another overdose. The doctors said I was clinically dead for forty seconds-

-The car crash-

-My mom's hugs. Her smiles-

-My dad's life lessons. His strong arms holding me-

-My sister comforting me from a nightmare. Her brownies, home made-

I dimly heard someone calling my name. Still, my eyes were clouded. I realized what was happening...I was watching my life. As if on cue, I jumped.

Silence, then a muffled curse.

"NATE!"

Jason's POV

"NATE!" I saw him jump out the window. I dropped what I was carrying; an Xbox 360, his birthday gift. I ran to the windows, and looked down.

Twenty feet below me, my little brother. Crumpled, unmoving. I could feel a lump in my throat as I ran downstairs, past the rest of my family, and outside. I was crying now, deep gasps coming through my system.

Rounding a corner, I called 911. Again. Then he was there.

Shane's POV

I saw Jason run past us, a crazed look in his face. I knew it was Nick, so I followed. I found him sitting down next to a heap of limbs that was my brother. He wasn't moving.

"Is-is he okay?" I asked, and Jason jumped. He didn't notice me sit down next to him.

"He has a pulse, but it's weak. Way too weak." I nod, as I run my hand through Nick's hair. Then my parents are there.

My mom was crying, her body shaking as she clutched herself for support. Paul was trying to get Nate to wake up, but it was worthless. It wasn't working. Forty seconds later, the E. arrived.

"Mommy, come on," I begged, but she was inconsolable. My dad sighed and took her into the car, and they drove off. I found myself alone, with Jason.

"Jase-" my voice broke. I felt the tears in my eyes, and felt them spill over. What was the point of hiding them, or-or pretending? I fell to my knees, and cried.

I felt Jason next to me, and felt his arms around me. Nonsense words were being whispered to me, as he lead me to his car. We drove in silence, fearing the worst.

Jason's POV

Why? Why did everything have to happen to Nate? Why had God chosen this horrible fate for our little brother? Hopefully, he would make it out of this alive.

I parked at the lot in Trinity Hospital, and ran to the entrance, closely followed by Shane. I found my parents in the waiting room. One look at my dads face, and I can tell that it's not good.

"Father?" I ask, not breaking eye contact.

"Jase...Shane, I-" his voice broke. "He- he's in a coma." Shane tumbled into a chair, and rubbed his eyes. I couldn't believe it. My kid brother; good natured, kind, loving, compassionate, in a coma.

"How bad?" asked Shane, the first thing he's said since we got here.

"He's on a respirator, and unresponsive. Jase, he's not going to wake up." I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. The doctor came out, and told us we could go see him.

As soon as I lay my eyes on him, I knew that he was almost gone. But, I think this was best. Even though he had been out of harms way, the demons had still been there. He had been damaged beyond repair.

"Mom, we should pull the plug." She stared at me for a while, then nodded. My father also nodded. Shane did not; he looked at me like I was crazy.

"Are you mental?" He yelled. "Jason, you can't give up on him like this! Please, can we just wait?" I bit my lip, glancing at my parents.

"Two weeks Shane, no more,, no less." He nodded, and we sat down. This was not going to be easy.


	8. Chapter 8

**11:00pm**

(Shane's POV)

I rubbed my eyes, the creeping sense of exhaustion slowly taking over my body. Only Jason and I had stayed at the hospital, after we convinced our parents to go home and rest about an hour ago. So far though, nothing huge had happened to Nate's condition. He was still out of it...maybe so out of it, he might not wake up again.

I shivered, shaking my head to clear it of those horrid thoughts. I yawned, stretching my legs. _I need a red bull,_ I thought to myself. Even as I said that, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I jumped, swearing as my head collided with a hard object.

"Damn Shane..." said the disembodied voice. "That hurt you know!" I slowly came to my senses, as my eyes focused. Looking up, I saw Jason standing over me, clutching the side of his head.

"Sorry Jase..." I mumbled, standing up. He patted me on the shoulder kindly.

"Don't worry about it," he said softly. "Here...I got you a couple of red bulls" I smiled up at him, thanking him. Accepting the red bulls, I turned back to watching Nate. At some point, I must have fallen asleep because I woke up to find the room dark, and my head on Jason's shoulder.

Jason was snoring softly, in a calming rhythm. I smiled, glad that at least something was right in this world. That when I got an odd feeling...like I was being watched. I shrugged it off, thinking it was just my being totally sleep-deprived.

Ten minutes later, the feeling came back, and I shuddered. I opened my eyes, and looked around the room. I gasped at what I saw.

"Hey Shane!"

(Nate's POV)

I opened my eyes, feeling groggy and very, very sore. Actually, a little more than that. Whatever it was, it hurt a llama load. The only time I have ever felt this volume of pain was when I was living with my..._other,_ family.

Great...enough reminiscing. Now back to the matter at hand. As I said, I opened my eyes, to find Shane staring at me.

"Hi Shane!" I said brightly. He just stared at me, unmoving. "Er- Shane?"

"NATE!" He yelled suddenly. I jumped, and so did a figure next to him

"Mom, it was the purple tel-tuby! I didn't do it!" Yelled a startled Jason, as he bounded back to reality. I spared him one confused gaze before turning to Shane.

"What's wrong Shane?" I asked. "Why did you yell?"

"Nate...you-you've been in a coma for the past week. You ju- fell out of your bedroom window," Joe finished. I could tell that he was keeping something from me...but I really didn't want to know what.

"Shane, I'm gonna call Mom and Dad...alright?" asked Jason. Shane nodded, and sat down next to me. I guess it was kind of awkward...because he said it in a sing song voice.

"Awkward!" I couldn't help but laughing. The tension in the room melted, and he grabbed my hand.

"I didn't think I would ever hear your voice again..." He said, his voice caking. I looked up at him, and gulped when I saw the tears in his eyes.

"But I am here Shane!" I said loudly, waving my arms in emphasis. "I'm here and I'm never going to leave!" I was crying now...yup. Me, the wimp.

"It's okay to cry you know," said a voice from the doorway. We both jumped at the sound, and saw that the voice belonged to Jason. I think seeing him there was what made Shane finally snap completely. He ran up to him, and crashed his head into his shoulder. Jason smiled sheepishly, running his hand along Shane's back. I wanted so desperately to go and be with them, but the IV in my arm and the cast that I had would not let me move.

As if reading my mind, Jason walked over to me, Shane now calm enough to walk. Without saying anything, he wrapped his arms around me. "I love you Nathaniel," he whispered.

"I love you too Jason," I said. "Thank you for everything you've done." He nodded, and pulled me closer. We were no longer crying. Nobody was. Through the hospital window, golden light from the sun was crawling into the room, making this moment magical. Just before the whole room would light up, I felt more arms around me.

"Thank God buddy," I heard my dad say. "And we do. We thank you Lord for helping us go through this whole ordeal, and end up stronger. Thank you." We all smiled, as the sunlight now completely flooded the room.

One big, happy family. Mom. dad, oldest brother, older brother, little brother. Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, my mom spoke up.

"I'm pregnant." Two words. Three syllables. My dad started crying and laughing, so did Jason. Shane just laughed. Me, I corrected my previous statement.

_Mom, dad, oldest brother, older brother, big brother, little brother._

Ah yes. Life was good.

_**Fin.**_


End file.
